Handful of Dust

I went to the house of my wife’s grandfather. He passed away already many years ago. The house has received order to be demolished and is waiting for it’s actual destruction which will take place in few months.

The place was eerie as you might imagine old house to be. The air smelled of mold and layer of dust covered everything. There were bunch of comic books, toys, kendo sword, dress.. Fascinating, very visual history. Perfect place to shoot Japanese horror movie..

I was able to take some photos the house of people I never had chance to know.

Yokohama

I remember when I first came to Minato Mirai in Yokohama, about exactly ten years ago. For me that time, it was futuristic city, like you know, city from Blade Runner, but it had something that I felt Tokyo lacked.

Fresh air, upward space, or something like that.

I was really moved that time about the beauty of the Queen’s towers and sure the Landmark Tower, you know I really liked how you could see the sea and the urban landscape at the same time. It was something I had never experienced.

Now, ten years after, as I look at the landscape in my mind.. I feel it’s definably the place where I want to be, you know, like I feel I belong there. Most of my friends are there, and with them I feel I am becoming part of the image really quickly and naturally.

I suppose I’ve always liked this type of urban landscape, you know I was born in completely different surroundings, in rural area of Finland and I never knew how sea smells or sounds like. It was only when I came to Japan first time, I started to be fascinated about sea.

I love sea and all empty and dark things, you know, horizontal lines and something tiny among the waves, for me it’s so beautiful, like those things are always there, even though the sea might shift and change constantly.

 

Poem

I am a child of two mothers,
a child of two continents

My elliptical path,
My seasonal shift

I circle alone,
together

The hope,
that exists in the world of no hope

I greet you,
my fellow satellite

In transition

I have arrived to my wife’s hometown in Mie. I was planning to stay in Yokohama until end of this week, because of Yokohama Art Department event which was organized by my friends in Art Mania.

But since my wife is pregnant and the baby seems to come earlier than expected, I decided I must return here as soon as possible.

Island Mother shooting and the Monday’s session after it, with my friend Saeko Nakahara, was very fascinating and emotionally moving process.

I feel humbled by it, and you know, being such a crybaby, I couldn’t stop my tears. The theme itself is about life and death, and one’s passing through life.  Saeko was totally amazing. I have never met anyone so talented in my life so far.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be wrong to say that part of me was burned away in the process of making these images.

And I’m saved by it.

The images are completed now, and there’s nothing more to add.

I hope I will continue to have the necessary courage to fight and challenge myself. Because it’s my job to take a photo.

It's ok, if you are my friend

I’m only making my culture from now. I have never had culture which I could call my own. The thing is, absolute sad thing as it is, is that it takes long time to make a culture.
I will be 70 years old when I finally know I’ve made my own culture and can somehow enjoy it. Then I will be dead.
What enjoyment can there possibly be? It’s a sheer pain and tears to make your own culture, to make others convinced, to change the world around you.
I am doomed in that sense and I have no hope. I know that.
But it’s ok. If you are my friend.

This Painful Way of Life

When you really appreciate someone, you know, when you really feel someone is important and close to you, you can’t really invade their space. Regardless how pleasant time you’ve had, at the end, you’ve got to be detached, cool, or like, whatever, you know.

In that way I think that always, time after time, my loneliness is a state where I fall in naturally, like my shape fits that hole only. I feel like I’m the extra piece that’s just lying down there.

Being in any kind of group for extended period of time makes me feel  even physical pain. No matter how dear the people are, if there is more than one person at the time, I’m going to get into pretty bad shape. I get panic attacks, I have trouble breathing and I make all kinds of mistakes and confuse words. It’s totally awful and I try to hide it with my own expense.

This used to be the reason why I always liked to drink in parties because it gave temporary relief to my pain of being in the group. And I overdid it quite few times. But you can’t really keep up doing that either because it’s going to mess up your life. So I’ve decided to manage without.

I might be a tortured soul in a classic way, you know, I take the search of my own beauty very seriously and all that what you’ve heard thousand times about “feeling the pain”; I think I really want to face that honestly and strongly.

And sometimes I want to punish myself.

But you know, I don’t mean to harm myself, instead I try constantly to protect myself. When I’m in my valleys, like right now, it takes significant effort just to wake up from that two hour’s restless sleep. I lose my appetite as well, and I might just as well drink hot water because I can’t tell any difference with any other stuff, but it’s all fine.

I feel it is the natural way to exist for me and it is the time when great inspiration comes. It hurts like hell but at least I’m alive.

So, perhaps, these valleys are not valleys but peaks actually.

Shooting of Island Mother

Yesterday I had chance to shoot a project Island Mother with beautiful Saeko Nakahara in Enoshima. I have been preparing this project for three years.

It was totally amazing. Her sheer talent as an artist and intelligence really moved me. We had delicious pancakes after the shoot in the cafe up on the rocks.

The photos of Island Mother will be published in Here Sometimes this summer.

Beacons

You know the kind of lights you see over the night sea, the tiny lights your eye can barely see, beacons in against the dark horizon of the water. There are only few of those, and they keep sending their signal to the empty sea.

Those are the kinds of lights I like to see. Their faint signal barely reaches you, and they exist alone in the dark ocean.

People crossing the bridge look at the opposite shore where there are glittering lights of a city and traffic and they scream “oh beautiful!”. But I like to look at the opposite direction, into the darkness.

Sometimes faintest things are the strongest.

Regarding my post "I Fear the Cold Wind of the Society"

I wrote to JPG Mag self-portrait title “I Fear the Cold Wind of the Society”. For my happy surprise, I received some encouraging words from my fellow photographer Maya:
http://jpgmag.com/photos/3299575

What I meant by that title wasn’t really as melancholic as it turned out to be, and I certainly didn’t mean Japanese society, but all societies in general, regardless of location or country.

I was bullied in school, you know, and compulsory army service wasn’t exactly the nicest experience for me either, and both of them, during the years of my youth, represented a kind of society. And I guess I’ve never really been able to adjust into any kind of society.

And I am easy to get panic attack if I have to operate under pressure in front of many people.

But as Maya wisely wrote:  “Be a tree of wholeness rather than a tree in the forest.”

I feel somehow comforted by this wisdom. We don’t have to belong to the group in order to operate within one. And we can always leave if we feel so.